


Cocking In Overtime

by jscribbles



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Accountant cas, M/M, Pining, Public Sex, Rimming, Sex in the office, they fuck on a photocopier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-14
Updated: 2020-01-14
Packaged: 2021-02-27 03:19:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22250158
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jscribbles/pseuds/jscribbles
Summary: Castiel had spent his entire career pining over Dean Winchester, the fancy marketing agent from across the office, thinking the sexy, smug idiot hardly knew who he was. Sure, they'd drunkenly made out at the company Halloween party that one time, and sure, it'd been the best night of Castiel's boring life, but neither had brought it up since.That was, until Dean and Castiel were alone one night, clocking in some over-time, and ran into each other in the copier room. Quickly, Castiel realized that not only did Dean know who he was, but he wanted a redo of their Halloween kiss, except this time, he was looking to smooch more than just Castiel's lips...---Or, the story of that time Castiel realised he had a chance with Dean after the smug asshole decided to plow him over a photocopier and ask him on a date. Jerk.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 33
Kudos: 340
Collections: The Pizzaman: A Destiel Anthology





	Cocking In Overtime

**Author's Note:**

> Sup? Behold my submission to The Pizza Man, a printed anthology of porny Destiel tales told by some of this fandom's finest. Thanks very much to FoxyMoley for putting the book together and letting me be part of such a fun, lovely project. 
> 
> Please check out the rest of the authors' stories as well! You'll find them in the collection this fic is part of. :)
> 
> Also THANK YOU to Foxy for their amazing header art. It's so lovely. Ahhhh!

Clocking in overtime? Story of Castiel’s life.

This job at Ad-pocalypse Marketing Agency had started out as an internship, a part-time gig that he’d taken out of college to gain ‘experience’. Fifteen years later and he had only _just_ taken a managerial position in the accounting department. It wasn’t the sexiest role in the agency—certainly, no one paid attention to him when they could gawk over the big-shot advertising agents like Gabriel Milton, or Zach DeAnglis, or the cocky, confident—and frustratingly symmetrical—Dean Winchester. But certainly, Castiel had earned his leadership role, he’d earned the only-marginally-higher salary and the solo office (even if it was nothing more than a glorified closet with a desk and a computer that was five years past an upgrade.)

And, of course, he’d earned the unpaid overtime. It was “part of the job'' his boss, Naomi, had chastised. Auditors had demanded every payroll termination since last year and that meant that Castiel had two hundred sheets of papers that needed photocopying. Two hundred sheets of paper that he had to dig out of a box that was bursting at the seams, covered in dust, and was smeared in something that Castiel was fairly certain had been alive at some point.

Regardless, that was a traumatic roach-filled memory he could put behind him. While staying long past his shift wasn’t ideal, the bright side was that he was nearly alone in the office. In the distance, he could hear the cleaner vacuuming, and he’d run into a maintenance worker fixing a vending machine, but otherwise, he was alone—blazer off, tie loose, and his hair in all types of mess that he normally cared to tame when others were around. 

In the copier room, it was just him, two hundred musty termination documents, a new copier that barely seemed to function, and—

Dean-freckles-and-jawline-Winchester.

“Hey, Feathers,” Dean greeted with a wink, pushing his way into the small copier room with his hip against the door. His arms were filled with large, A2-sized copies of ad drafts he and his team were working on. 

Castiel scowled and crossed his arms over his chest, shifting his weight on his feet as he pointedly turned his attention away and looked down at the buzzing and whirring copier as it did its job so...slowly…

14/203 pages. Crap.

“I wish you wouldn’t call me that,” Castiel murmured, glancing up at Dean, who was dumping his arm-fulls of paper onto the desk beside the copier and struggling to organize them as he went. 

Setting down a bottle he’d concealed in his fist, Dean’s grin spread across his face and he said with a raised brow and a wiggling finger, “No one asked you to show up to the office Halloween party dressed ‘like an angel’, did they? I mean, wings and a halo over a trenchcoat and suit didn’t exactly win you best costume, but it won you best nickname, huh, Feathers?”

It also won him a very sloppy but enjoyable makeout session with Dean himself, sponsored by tequila and lime. 

They didn’t talk about _that_ though. 

They’d never brought it up again. 

A drunk mistake, that was all it had been.

“Yes, well,” Castiel murmured and dragged his eyes away from Dean’s pink, exquisitely-shaped, thick lips. _21/203 pages. Fuck._ “I’ll ensure to be more creative next time. What were you dressed up as, if I might be reminded?”

Dean’s grin did something wibbly and strange to Castiel’s knees. His fist curled around the side of the copier; he knew he looked tired, leaning on the thing, but what he was actually feeling was—yes, a healthy dose of overworked and overtired, but also the rush of blood to his groin as he remembered having to rub red lipstick off his mouth and jaw once he’d returned home.

“Dr. Frank-N-Furter!” Dean said with excitement. “Remember?”

Oh, yes. Castiel remembered ripping the necklace from around Dean’s neck, and ignoring the pinging of the pearls as they rolled across the floor. He remembered that vividly, as did his cock, apparently—

“Not really,” Castiel murmured, pulling a stack of 37 pages off the tray and tapping at them to find something to do with his hands. 

“Well,” Dean replied, shrugging, “it’s probably for the best. I got written up in HR the following Monday for dressing inappropriately at a work-function. Dunno what their problem was, everyone loved it. And I wore a _jacket_. I mean, what else did they want from me?”

“Inappropriate? I can’t imagine why. Perhaps it was the underwear?”

“Or the garters?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Castiel offered, his lip twitching. As much as he wanted to play nonchalant around his office crush, it was hard not to participate in the joking when he knew Dean enjoyed it so much. 

As a reward, Dean wrinkled his nose and chuckled. “I thought you didn’t remember?”

 _Busted._ “I don’t. I...just think I merely remember a picture or two making it up onto the Employee Events wall. It’s hard to miss the one person in lingerie and leather.”

Castiel might’ve spent a bit too long staring at those pictures when he had the occasional bad day…or good day, at that. Any kind of day was really just fine for a good ol’ fashion, innocent stare-fest. There had been a Polaroid camera the social committee had made available for people to take pictures with, and somehow the camera had landed in their hands. 

It would be inappropriate and weird to _take down_ the selfie of him and Dean from the wall, to put it in his wallet, or on his desk. It would be creepy because they’d never interacted much outside of that one party. It wasn’t as if they were office buddies or friends outside of work. Castiel was just a boring accountant and Dean was one of the big-shot ad guys that mere mortals crushed on from afar. He was loved by all, a ray of sunshine whenever he walked in a room, and generally was the target of most crushes held in the office. That was the reason they didn’t talk to each other much, and the reason why neither of them had brought up the accidental drunk makeout. Dean was out of Castiel’s league. 

Still...Castiel liked to look at the picture. They looked happy. They looked like they were having fun. If he suspended all reality for a moment, he thought maybe they looked good together. 

“Is that lube?” Castiel blurted out, suddenly realizing what the small bottle was that Dean had put down on the table.

“What gave it away?” asked Dean, laughter in his voice. He reached down and turned the bottle so that the brand name _LUBE TUBE_ was showing. 

Feeling his face heat up, Castiel shifted his feet, his eyes narrowing at Dean. “Why do you have lubricant at the office?”

Dean raised his brows. “What? You don’t got a stash of desk-lube handy for when stuff gets too hard…? Come on, Cas. I’m joking. Unclench.” 

Dean laughed when Castiel’s shoulders slumped. 

54/203. _Oh, dear God. Hurry up._

“It’s our newest project,” Dean said with an amused huff. “It’s a silicone lube that they’re tryna market as multipurpose. It’s supposed to hydrate skin and nails. It’ll help with chafing and make your hair shiny.”

Despite himself, despite every bit of poise and propriety his mother had tried to instill in him, Castiel blurted out, “Sounds stupid.”

“Wow, Cas. Tell me how you really feel.”

“My apologies,” Castiel muttered, raising a hand to futz with his hair—a nervous tick. “I didn’t mean—”

“It _is_ stupid,” Dean agreed, his crows feet deepening as he flashed Castiel a smile. “But as lube, it’s fine.”

“Oh...yes?”

“Yeah. Well, maybe. Haven’t actually tried it yet. We’re just getting data back from the focus groups this week.”

“You should try it for yourself,” Castiel said before he realised what he’d said, and immediately felt his face grow hotter than the sun and probably look redder than the plaid in Dean’s tie. All the blood that had flowed to his dick uninvited now swiftly exited and made right for his cheeks.

An awkward moment passed between them when Castiel stared at a divot in the wall where they’d tried and failed to hang a sign about paper jams. Beside him, Dean stared at the clock and cleared his throat.

“Anyways…”

“I, um, I…”

“What’s keeping you at the office so late?” Dean piped up, pulling their conversation from the mud and shaking it out. “I always notice you clockin’ in lots of overtime.” 

Dean _noticed_ him? 

_Dean was here late enough to notice him?_

His face cooling down significantly, Castiel nodded and focused on linking sounds together into words that weren’t entirely inappropriate. “Yes. An audit happened recently. It took a month of preparation! Then they were only here for two days, and now we’re just gathering further information they’ve requested. Papers on terminations. They’d like all the archived documents from last names S-to-Z by Monday and...I…” He looked over at Dean, who was staring into his eyes, looking far away. “I’m boring you, aren’t I?”

With a hearty blink, Dean’s face turned a bit flushed at his cheeks and he grinned, shrugging. “Nah, man. I’m just tired. Been putting in quite a bit of overtime myself.”

“Why?”

“Well, on top of the lube situation, we got Gabriel working on a project for these new gummy candies. The client came in late and wanted changes to the copies, like, yesterday, so we’ve had to put in some extra time. Gabriel’s on vacation with his girlfriend, Kali, though—poorly timed, if you ask me—so I’m here tonight to get caught up. Just got the concept art for our ads from Germany, so I…I’m boring you aren’t I?”

The two men stared at each other, then smiled, looking away at the same time. 

In silence, with nothing but the buzzing of the copier, Castiel wished he was better at talking to people, better at reading them, too. He’d know what to say, how to joke, how to make small talk. He wished he had something to offer Dean, something to break the tension—

“Jeeze, how long is this copier gonna take? You making four-hundred copies of everything you got there?” Dean rubbed his hand over his hair in a careful manner, smirking. “I feel like we’ve been talking about lube and lingerie for like nine hours now.”

Feeling guilty for making him wait, Castiel slid his hands into his pockets to rub away the dampness of his palms and in an effort to look perhaps less nervous than he was. “Apologies, Dean. I’m only making one set of copies, but there are two hundred pages and this ‘new’ printer is horrible. It’s slow and clunky. I’ve been here for quite some time and there’s—” He leaned over, squinting at the screen. “—still one-hundred and nine pages to go.” _Say something funny in his type of humor, quick._ Gruffly, Castiel rumbled, “Whose idea was it to buy this? The other one was old but much quicker. Who do I have to fuck around here to get a fast photocopier?”

To his surprise, Dean scratched at his jaw and made a pained face. Then he pushed off the table and strode over, filling the air within Castiel’s personal bubble with the scent of worn cologne—peach, cinnamon, and something woodsy...or was it leathery?

“Well, I did my best, but maybe next time I get put in charge of getting us a new copier, I go with the best-reviewed one instead of just going with a brand we used to do advertising for.” While Castiel drowned in embarrassment, Dean looked over his shoulder to lock eyes with him and grinned sheepishly. “We said on the ad that it was the sturdiest on the market. It’s said to be able to hold a two-hundred-pound man on it. It’s supposed to have a life of fifteen years!”

“False advertising,” Castiel said tightly, feeling Dean’s shoulder brush his chest. He was warm, and smelled nice, and was staring at him with such fondness and…

“Bite your tongue, Feathers,” Dean warned, winking. “That was my account and I never lie. I merely _bend_ the truth.”

Castiel could think of one thing that Dean could bend, and it was him. Right over that godforsaken copier. It was supposed to hold a two-hundred-pound man and Castiel was certainly ready to test that theory, even if he was significantly less than two hundred pounds…

Castiel stepped back, shaking his head as Dean went back to fiddling with the copier. He was working too much overtime, he was exhausted. Thinking about fucking your coworker when they were right there? It was wrong.

“Well, false advertising or not, it’s very slow,” Castiel said bluntly.

“Yeah, it’s not the fastest. But,” Dean ran his hands over the sleek white printer, “its got clean lines and a touch screen, and I mean, the advertising worked. This thing is sexy.”

“Did they actually advertise it to say it could hold a two-hundred-pound man on it?”

“Yup.”

“Why would they ever use that as a markable function?”

Dean laughed, his eyes a bit wide. After carefully moving the scanned pile of termination papers, he lifted the insertable tray and gestured to the glass inside, pressing on it with his hand. The photocopier flashed to life. “Dude, didn’t you see those commercials with the two dudes making out on the photocopier? That campaign ran all over TV and in the subway stations for like six months!?”

Recalling two men locked in a moment of fiery passion, one yanking at the other’s necktie as his mouth latched onto his throat, the object of his passion half-bent over the top of a copier, his corduroy pants stretched over thick thighs and a sizable bulge—

“That was an advertisement for _photocopiers?!”_ Castiel asked, tilting his head, his forehead hurting from furrowing so hard. 

“Be as shocked as you want, Feathers, but that’s the truth. People fell for it. It was steamy, controversial. Sexy.” Dean tapped the glass screen firmly, a proud smirk on his face. “This puppy sold out within the first couple weeks of its launch. Hell, I came up with the idea and I still fell for it anyway.”

To think that steamy image came from Dean’s mind...and that it was of two men in a copier room that looked strangely like theirs. 

Swallowing a lump in his throat, Castiel croaked, “Do you think… Do you think people do that?”

“Do what?”

“Have sex on photocopiers.”

Although he was flushed again, Dean released a bark of laughter. “The porn has to come from somewhere.”

Unsure what possessed him, Castiel pointed at the slow-moving, but admittedly sexy machine in front of them, and he whispered, “Do you think this one could actually hold a grown man on top of it?”

“Like the full weight of him? Ass on top or just bent over?” Dean asked, seeming to seriously ponder the question as he slid his hands across the glass, his mouth a pensive pout. Then, he slowly looked up and over his shoulder again. Castiel held his breath, feeling forest-green eyes search his face. Holding the gaze, Castiel felt like he was leaning forward, wishing to fall into that greenery and enjoy the purity of nature— 

Dean’s brow twitched like it wanted to raise, then Dean whispered throatily, “Did you want to test it?”

Despite the half-chubby in his trousers and the heat pooling in his chest, making his entire front tingle with anticipation, Castiel just gaped, his mouth falling open. 

“I mean,” Dean carried on slowly, a huff of amusement in his voice, “we have lube here and…”

“Dean, I…” How did he properly express how much he wanted Dean to test the theory—and the lube—on him?

But Dean stopped him before he could reply. Quickly ducking away, Dean began gathering papers, his back turned. “Uh, sorry, dude. Just...nevermind. I shouldn’t’ve said that. Shouldn't've put you on the spot to break rules. I know you’re a straight-laced kinda guy and I respect that—”

Oh, shit. He was leaving, heading toward the door, rushed, the papers barely in his arms. “Dean—”

To his surprise, Dean turned around and his face showed nothing but nervousness, and worse; fear.

“I-I was half-kidding,” Dean went on quickly, his face red. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable. Really, man. Honest. I just misread... Please don’t tell HR. I really need this job, and I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable. I thought I’d been getting vibes from you since I started here, and at the Halloween party we made out and I know we didn’t talk about it ever again after, but I just wish we had… Fuck, please don’t tell. I won’t ever come on to you again. Please, I’m paying for my brother’s schooling and—”

Behind him, the photocopier continued to split out papers, but Castiel was no longer preoccupied with the copies or their progress. The object of his affections and fantasies was standing in front of him, offering himself up, and admitting that he remembered their night together. He remembered their kiss, and he wished they’d talked about it. Maybe Dean had wanted more… 

No, _obviously_ he wanted more. He’d just propositioned him for sex on the photocopier, for Pete’s sake!

Pushing down the fear, and shoving aside the small voice in his head telling him he was not what Dean wanted, that he was nothing, Castiel made three quick strides and gripped Dean by the shoulder, turning him around. 

“Stop.”

Dean’s foot shot out to stop the door from colliding with his elbow. He looked over at Castiel with a wince. “Cas…”

“I’ve been having a very rough few weeks. No, months, even. And the reason I didn’t mention things from the Halloween party was because I thought you’d regretted them. I...I suppose what I’m trying to say is that how can you market this lube without having tried it? And if this copier breaks under me, you’ll be made a liar.”

Very slowly, fear and discomfort drained from Dean’s face, melting into realisation, then excitement. His green eyes went a bit wide and he asked, “Are you…”

“If you’ve changed your mind, please don’t feel pressured,” Castiel said slowly, shrugging one shoulder, his hand sliding off Dean’s shoulder. “I just… I’ve been quite lonely lately, and very much cherish the time we spent together that night. I wish it’d gone further. And I’ve been working a lot of overtime, feeling quite a bit of stress... What I mean is that I’d like to take you up on your offer.”

Dean turned to him completely with a sparkle in his eye. He leaned to the side and deposited his armful of papers back down. His foot went back and closed the door with a click. “The photocopier is still within its refund period. If it doesn’t hold up its claims, then we can always exchange it for a faster one. But like I said, Castiel, I don’t lie.”

“Show me,” Castiel said, his raspy voice sounding more gravelly than usual. With hands that felt like they were buzzing, he reached up and began to loosen his tie, but Dean’s hand snapped out and he grabbed Castiel’s wrist.

Shaking his head, Dean’s eyes swept across Castiel’s face, holding his gaze in a way that left him feeling more passion than a casual hookup typically implied. It was enchanting and enthralling. Castiel couldn’t break their stare. He let Dean’s hand gently pull his hand away, and let his warm fingers wrap around Castiel’s, their hands joined and swinging down to their sides as Dean stepped into his space and finally, after months, kissed him again.

Their dry, soft lips pressed softly, only for a few short moments, before Dean pulled away an inch and whispered, “Keep on your clothes. I wanna take my time undressing you next time we do this. For now, we should keep most of the clothes on in case we gotta put ‘em on quick. Just in case someone tries to come in.”

 _Next time._ Dean said there would be a next time.

Their eyes locked, their chests brushing as they breathed. 

Castiel nodded slowly. “Then fuck me fast on this copier, so we can get our work done, and then you take me out for a drink after.”

“Deal,” Dean agreed, smiling against Castiel’s lips before he captured them again in small pecks. “I just managed to put together my bedroom furniture, maybe if you wanna take that drink at my place—”

“We could move that furniture around,” Castiel proposed against Dean’s lips, his breath hitching as Dean’s knuckles dragged down his front, and his palm cupped Castiel’s cock and balls through his stiff trousers. 

“And I can take my time undressing you.” Dean kissed his way down Castiel’s jawline, walking him backwards slowly and kneading his fingers around his balls. “One button at a time… I’d make good use of that tie…”

The copier beeped in protest as Castiel’s ass pressed all kinds of wrong buttons. But he hardly cared; as Dean dragged his tongue up the shell of his ear, Castiel groaned gratuitously, propriety abandoned. In response to the noise, Dean murmured, “Here goes nothing,” and lifted Castiel off the floor by cupping his ass with his hands.

Castiel sucked in a quick, sharp breath as he was hoisted closer to Dean. The other man’s hands were strong on his ass and thighs as he guided them around his hips and slid him back onto the blasted photocopier in one smooth motion. 

To their surprise, the glass did not break, nor crack. They both froze, waiting for a sharp sound that would indicate that, yes, Dean was indeed a false advertiser, and not only was the machinery slow, but shitty.

But it never came and Dean grinned, gripping Castiel by the tie and leaning forward, his eyes twinkling in triumph. “I _told_ you. Strong enough to—”

“Fuck a guy on?” Castiel finished, in response to a jolt of fear that Dean would pull him off the copier and leave now that he was proven right. 

But Dean had no intention of leaving. As a matter of fact, he yanked on the tie, jolting Castiel forward, and they crushed their lips together, breathing hard as their both became instantly and intensely aroused. Castiel felt the firm thickness of Dean’s cock against his leg, and pressed into it gently, earning a throaty moan from his crush. 

Dean’s tongue slid into his mouth, coaxing open his dry lips, working his way into the heat, bringing with him the sweetness of a cherry flavoured energy drink and cherry pie. It wasn’t a balanced diet, certainly, but it was definitely delightful...much like Dean himself. 

The vacuuming at the other end of the office was getting slightly louder. “We have to hurry,” Castiel rasped, pulling away.

Dean nodded, and growled, “Then we need to change positions.”

“I wouldn’t be very good in the marketing department. Though I’d get a raise,” Castiel jested. “Might be worth it.”

To his fascination, the joke landed. Dean laughed as he twined his arms around his waist and pull Cas off the copier. As he lowered him to the floor, their bodies slid against each other, their cocks catching and making them both moan into each others mouths.

With his forehead to Castiel’s, Dean whispered, “Oh, I’ll give you a raise alright—” With a grunt, he grabbed Castiel by the shoulder and turned him around roughly, a flat hand on his back shoving him forward into the glass of the copier. “—and it will definitely be worth it.”

Bent over the glass, Castiel panted against it, watching condensation spread over it. In his chest, his heart pounded, thumping against the glass; he wondered if Dean could hear it. He wondered if Dean could feel it, the insistent thump-thump-thump of his pulse in his dick as blood continued to flow in, making him impossibly harder and bigger. Dean’s hands pressed into the bulge, reaching around from behind him, before his other hand joined in, cupping his balls and massaging them through his pants. 

“We have to hurry—”

Dean chuckled from behind him, and his hands left Castiel to move slightly north, undoing his belt with frustrating slowness. “Just tryna warm you up, Feathers.”

How did he tell Dean he’d been warmed up since Halloween? Hell, since Dean started here many years ago, and flashed that smile at him on his first day, when the ad department owed him purchase orders and they’d sent their hot new green-eyed, freckled intern over to deliver them. Castiel had watched his perky ass walk all the way back to the marketing department, wondering how the hell he was going to focus on any other numbers when his brain kept saying, “that’s a 10/10” on a loop.

“Yes, sir,” Dean growled as he yanked Castiel’s pants down until they were bunched under his ass, exposing his eager hole to the copier room’s cool air. 

_‘Sir’._ Now that was a nickname he could get behind…or under.

His ass was saved from the cool air by a hot mouth latching over his hole, and a wet, warm tongue tracing moan-inducing circles around it. The vacuum was getting louder on the other side of the office, but Castiel was having a difficult time caring as his cock dripped pre-come, and the way Dean was eating out his ass was making his brain short circuit. 

Dean’s stubble tickled his skin in all the best ways, but the experience got infinitely better as his hands slid over his cheeks and spread them, an accompanying knee nudging Castiel’s legs apart. As Dean hummed, electric heat shot from somewhere in Castiel’s ass to the tip of his cock, making him so hard it almost hurt. 

“Oh, God,” Castiel panted into the glass as Dean’s slick and warm tongue slid into his already waiting and eager hole. “Yes, yes, _yes_ —”

Dean’s face bobbed back and forth, and his fingers dug into the muscled orbs of Castiel’s ass, keeping him spread. Castiel’s cock tapped at the touch screen of the copier, activating all kinds of functions he wasn’t sure of and didn’t care about. He was being thoroughly tongue fucked, and nothing else mattered. All that was of import was that hot, wet muscle working him open, the vibrating moans that traveled through him and made his prostate swell, wanting to be touched. Spit slicked his ass and was traveling down his shaking thighs—

“Fuck me,” Castiel gasped, his fingers sliding across the glass as his palms sweat. “ _Please_.”

His asshole fluttered as cold air hit it and Dean’s face pulled back. “Are you prepped enough?”

Again, Castiel wasn’t sure how to tell Dean he didn’t need too much prep; he fucked himself on a dildo that was attached to his headboard every morning before work. Being filled wasn’t something he needed to get ready for, he was always ready to go. It was his natural state of being. It was just how it was when he clocked in too much overtime, and was forever single and horny.

“Yes,” Castiel croaked, pulling himself onto his elbows. “You were very thorough.”

He looked over his shoulder and saw Dean standing behind him, one hand on his ass still, massaging circles into it as his eyes stared at his hole, looking impossibly turned-on and lustful. The other hand carded through his hair, messing it up. 

God, he was _gorgeous._

When Dean lifted his eyes, the forest green was dark under thick light brown lashes, and his mouth released a slow breath through slightly swollen, shining lips. Castiel held his intense gaze as Dean dragged his hands down his own chest, pausing to twerk his thumb over his nipples through his shirt, before moving down to his pants. Fumbling fingers undid his belt and zipper, and shaking hands slid his pants down his hips.

He lowered the trousers just enough to reveal a thick, heavy-looking cock. It was made of perfection, crafted by the hands of every god in existence, carved into the ideal shape that would be Castiel’s undoing. Shaved, smooth, a delightful deep pink, and curved slightly downward; perfect to pound Castiel to Heaven and back.

With his cock tapping at Castiel’s hole, and not breaking eye contact, Dean leaned to the side and plucked the bottle of _LUBE TUBE_ off the table beside the copier. With a devilish wink, Dean popped the top with his thumb and flipped the bottle in his hand before he squeezed from quite a height, dribbling the thick lube all over the end of his cock and Castiel’s already spit-slick, swollen asshole. 

“Time to gain some product knowledge,” Dean murmured before he grabbed his cock and used it to rub an excessive amount of lube around Castiel’s waiting, tight ring of muscle. His green eyes flickered up. “Ready?”

“Fuck me, Freckles.”

With a smile, Dean reached forward, grabbed Castiel by the shoulder, and pushed in. They both moaned as Dean slid in easily, the lube perfectly slippery and sleek.

“Oh, fuck,” Dean breathed, his lids sliding closed, his brows furrowing deliciously. He licked his bottom lip as he froze, visibly trying to gather himself. In response, Castiel pushed back, taking Dean all the way in until his ass swallowed that cock whole and the tip of Dean’s thick length brushed his prostate, sending warm waves of arousal through his body.

While his legs shook from the feeling and his cock leaked all over the touch screen, Dean’s grip on his shoulder tightened and he slowly began to move, pulling out incredibly deliberately, before plowing forward, their flesh clapping. 

The vacuuming was getting louder, they could hear voices talking in offices nearby—the cleaners and maintenance workers were having their typical mid-shift pow-wow by the vending machines. 

Dean’s pace picked up and the two men breathed hard. Castiel turned his face back towards the copier, his hands making slick squeaking noises over the glass as he was railed by Dean’s thick dick. It was stretching him open in the most exquisite way, so that with every inch of cock pushed in and pulled out, pleasure circuited from his used hole to his pulsing, touch-starved cock. With a grunt, Castiel dragged his hand off the glass and then down to his cock, taking it in his hand.

“That’s right, Feathers,” Dean coaxed, raising his hand and bringing it back down to slap Castiel’s ass firmly. The sharp sting it left behind made Castiel tip his head back and cry out in pleasure.

Quickly, Dean’s hand left Castiel’s shoulder and reached around, grabbing his tie. Before Castiel could do much else but pump at his own cock, Dean bunched the tie up in his fist and pushed the smooth material into Castiel’s mouth. 

“Quiet,” Dean ordered. “I appreciate that you’re a screamer, but leave that for furniture moving. You’re gonna get us fired.”

Castiel wondered what would get them fired more; flesh clapping obscenely loud like this, or Castiel screaming ‘fuck, fuck, YES!’ during his inevitably powerful orgasm later. Castiel nodded. “Mmhmm,” he hummed around the mouthful of tie.

God, he could just come from that alone. Both holes filled, both by very-symmetrical-monster-cock-Dean Winchester’s doing. 

The hand went down to his shoulder, and the next few minutes were occupied with nothing but Dean’s cock fucking Castiel in the ass with such abandon that they both could hardly form words. The room filled with the noises of panting, and grunting, and gasping, and Castiel’s photocopies still going. The copier beeped and booped as Castiel fucked his own hand, all the while still pressing buttons with the tip of his cock. 

In response, the copier activated, and Castiel squeezed his eyes shut as the bright light under the glass swooshed under his hands, from one side of the machine to the other and back. He briefly wondered how many copies he was making of the image of his hands and chest pressed to the glass. 

He hoped it made at least two.

“I’m close,” Dean whispered as the vacuuming got too loud. The cleaners were in the office across the hall. “God, I’m so close, Cas. I c-can’t believe this is happening. I’ve had a crush on y-you for so long.”

Castiel spat out his tie and groaned, “Me too. God, m-me too, Dean.”

While plowing into him erratically, his heavy cock sliding in and out quite easily still, Dean choked out, “Which one? Coming or crushing?”

In response, Castiel pressed his forehead to the glass and released a keening, choked noise from his throat as he came, come spilling over his knuckles as he twisted his cock to the rhythm of Dean’s thrusts. His prostate sent sharp waves of hot pleasure to the base of his cock, shooting another streak of come across the touch-screen and over Castiel’s fingers. Behind him, Dean released a shuddering breath and Castiel felt his thighs shaking against his. Inside his ass, Dean came heavily, come filling him almost endlessly as Dean’s thrusts slowed.

Their hips flush together, Dean’s cock was buried so deeply inside Castiel that he had trouble distinguishing where he started and Dean began. The last few pumps of come rumbled through Dean’s cock. Castiel’s own hand slowed. As they both caught their breath, Dean going soft inside Castiel’s ass, the vacuum across the hall sputtered and stopped. 

The cleaner swore and there was a distinct sound like a vacuum being kicked, and then stomping footsteps down the hallway. It was the perfect time for the thing to break because Castiel couldn’t imagine a world where he wanted Dean to pull out when it felt so good to feel him going soft inside him.

Against his back, he felt Dean lean down and rest his forehead against the tops of his shoulders. They were quiet for a moment, pressed against each other, Castiel panting into the glass of the photocopier, while Dean breathed into his spine and his forehead brushed the nape of Castiel’s neck.

“To answer your question,” Castiel rasped into the glass, his eyes sliding open, “both.”

“Both?”

“Yes. Coming and...crushing.”

To his surprise, Dean lifted his head and wrapped his arms around Castiel’s middle. “Good… Good. That’s really, really good. You...gonna be off work soon?”

“I’ve done enough overtime,” Castiel replied as Dean reluctantly moved and began to pull out. “Let me just clean up in the bathrooms quickly, and drop these copies off at my d-desk...if this copier ever finishes.”

Dean moved away from him, and Castiel stood, feeling the uncomfortable sensations that came with being fucked and came inside of. Still, they quickly did up their pants, eyes flickering up at each other shyly. Coy smiles curled on their lip as they zipped up and tucked in, and Castiel straightened his slightly patchy and damp tie.

With a laugh, Dean reached forward and ran his fingers through Castiel’s hair, trying to fix it. “Dude, you look thoroughly fucked.”

Castiel grinned, feeling like he hadn’t done so in a while, his eyes crinkling in the corner. With a loose wave, he gestured to Dean’s face, eyeing his red lips. “So do you.”

Behind him, the copies finished. He turned around and laughed. “It’s done!”

“Wow,” Dean chuckled, resting his chin on Castiel’s shoulder, peering over to the come-splotched touch screen. “Regardless of speed, I think we’re going to have to order another one. That’s just not sanitary.”

“It’s still within the warranty?”

“Yup. Now, I’ll wipe this thing down and put in a purchase order tomorrow.” Castiel felt deliriously delighted when Dean turned his head and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Go do your thing, Feathers. Meet you in the lobby in fifteen?”

“Of course, Freckles.”

“Oh, so that’s my nickname now?”

“It feels unfair that I get one and you don’t,” Castiel said as Dean moved towards the door. “Didn’t you have something to photocopy?”

“Nah,” Dean admitted, his hand on the doorknob. He shrugged one shoulder. “Just came in to flirt with you a bit. Besides,” he gestured to the copier, “that thing is too way too fuckin’ slow.”

After they both laughed, Dean turned and left, leaving Castiel with four hundred and eight pieces of paper—the top two were a charming image of his hands, chest, and chin pressed into the copier. While he wouldn’t be putting these pictures on his desk or in his wallet, they’d find a homey place in his bedside drawer. Staring at the mess on the touchscreen, Castiel acknowledged that Dean’d left him with a mess to clean up, but also a fluttering, swelling feeling in his heart that made him feel like overtime maybe wasn’t all that bad.

**Author's Note:**

> Please leave me a comment! :) I'll love you forever.


End file.
